


True Love's Kiss and Other Lies

by KeyboardSmashFics



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018), Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Jughead is a wizard, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Soulmates, very minor Archie/Betty at the beginning but that ends fast because this is a Bughead fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:20:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25117555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeyboardSmashFics/pseuds/KeyboardSmashFics
Summary: “Okay, new plan. You agree to silence the soul mate bond, and I’ll be your personal fairy godmother. One wish, just one, courtesy of Jughead Jones.”“What kind of wish?” Betty asked, raising an eyebrow.“Anything you want, within reason. I’m a wizard, not a miracle worker.”The fairy tale AU in which Jughead does not want a soul mate, Betty does not want to be a damsel in distress, and one wish sets something in motion that is bigger than either of them intended.
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones, Harvey Kinkle/Sabrina Spellman, Snatches of Archie/Veronica in the background
Comments: 45
Kudos: 51





	1. In Which Betty Sneaks Out

Lady Elizabeth Cooper wedged her boot into a carefully concealed foothold carved into the stone side of her family home. At first, it had been difficult to find them in the dark, but after years of sneaking out of her home at night, she’d memorized the places hidden by ivy that allowed her to scale the wall up to her tower room.

She carefully found another handhold and shifted her weight, counting on her dark green cloak to hide her in the shadows of the flying buttresses if anyone were to pass by, though it was unlikely that anyone would be walking around at midnight. Every member of Duke Cooper’s household had tucked themselves into bed by now and they were all fast asleep, all except for Betty and the night watch, and she knew their patrol routes well enough to avoid them.

After she landed on solid earth, it didn’t take long to sneak off the grounds via the familiar route out to the woods, past the gardens and through the tall grass. She checked to make sure that no one was following her, but it was more out of habit than necessity. No one had ever caught her in three years of slipping outside at night. It seemed unlikely that they would now.

“Betty!” A whisper came from behind a tree and she tensed, but it only took a moment for her to recognize the familiar, dark silhouette.

“Archie!” She practically threw herself into his arms, a wide smile on her face. She giggled quietly as he picked her up and swooped her around in a circle. Only a moment later, Archie gently set her on her feet, dropping a kiss to her forehead.

She’d known Archie since they were children and had loved him almost as long. It always felt right to her, having him by her side. She’d even cried when she realized at thirteen years old that a soul mate bond would never form between them, but by sixteen she’d decided it didn’t matter. To her, Archie was an inevitability. She couldn’t stop herself from falling for him any more than she could stop the rain from falling or the sun from shining.

Unfortunately, though Betty had loved him all her life, it had taken Archie quite a bit longer to come around. He had only recently seemed to warm up to her in a more-than-friendly way. The last few weeks had been heavenly, though, like a dream or as close to a real fairy tale as Betty ever thought she could achieve.

“How long do we have?” he asked, plopping down on the ground just inside the tree line, where a thicket of bushes shielded them from sight.

“Maybe two hours? Three? I just need to be back before the patrol changes,” Betty said, settling down next to him. She smoothed her skirts and leaned against his side, resting her head on his shoulder and trying to ignore the pounding of her heart. He smelled a little like the forge he worked at and a little like soap, as though he couldn’t quite scrub off the iron-and-soot scent of the blacksmithing business he’d taken over after his father’s death.

“Any news from Polly?” he asked quietly.

“Nothing besides what we already know,” she said with a sigh. “She’s pregnant with Prince Jason’s child and she’s staying at the castle until they’re born. She’s healthy and safe.”

“I can’t believe he’s still refusing to marry her,” Archie said, shaking his head even as he slipped his arm around Betty’s waist, his fingers tracing lazy circles against her hip.

“Polly always claimed that he loved her, even back when this all started. She said it was the king and queen who want the marriage… but I don’t know what to believe.”

“No true love’s kiss saving grace?” he asked with a sigh, but a small smile played across his lips even as he spoke, something wistful sparking in his gaze. It almost made her pull away.

Almost.

“No,” Betty said, pursing her lips. True love’s kiss was the biggest lie that she’d ever heard.

Even in a world where magic existed, where dragons flew through the skies and real princesses were a part of every day life, Betty Cooper knew that true love’s kiss was the biggest fairy tale of all. It was an easy solution to magical issues that had no easy solution in real life, a simple out instead of a complicated potion, a kiss instead of a funeral. It was nice for children to believe in true love, but adults knew what the real explanation was: an effect of magic that had seeped so deeply into the land, the water, and the people that it could only be described as the soul mate bond.

Sometimes, rarely, there had been cases where a kiss from a soul mate was enough to wake a person from an everlasting sleep potion. There had been stories of people saved from death by their soul mates, woken up by a kiss. The theory was that it was something in the bond, something pushed forward by magic that worked off intention and random, predetermined physical connections. It was _special_. It wasn’t every day that something like that happened.

Betty had certainly never known anything like that to spark from the soul mate bonds that she knew. If anything, it was an easy route to a rose-colored view of the world. People found their soul mates, married, and went on to live their happy lives without thinking that maybe, just maybe, they’d still need to work for that kind of legendary love.

However, if pressed, she wouldn’t deny that a soul mate bond was something she dreamed about. Who didn’t, after all? Who didn’t want to know that there was someone out there just for you? If it was magic or biology or something different entirely, she didn’t know, but Betty couldn’t deny that the concept was appealing.

“If they were soul mates, they would definitely have a mark by now.”

“Mmmhmm,” Archie agreed, but Betty could hear the unspoken caveat.

So would the two of them.

Another reason that things were complicated for Betty Cooper: Archie Andrews was decidedly _not_ her soul mate, but he held every part of her heart.

Soul mate bonds appeared the first time that soul mates touched one another. It required skin-to-skin contact, but that was the only condition, one of the very few consistent points between soul mate bonds. One touch, that was all it took, and a soul mark appeared on both partners’ bodies. Generally, it appeared on the right forearm of each partner, but there were a few exceptions. The design was different for everyone. One rule: they were always a perfect match.

If Polly and Jason were soul mates, that bond would have appeared months ago, around the time she started sleeping with him. If Archie and Betty were soul mates, they would have had marks for _years_.

It wasn’t that soul marks were required for love. Soul bonds were a gift, something considered more precious than gold and rarer than diamonds, though they weren’t truly _that_ rare. Based on the cases of soul mate bonds she’d seen in Riverdale as a child, Betty calculated that she had roughly a one in five chance of finding hers one day. Uncommon, but not so uncommon that it was entirely unlikely.

“Have you ever thought about running?” Archie asked suddenly, pulling her in closer.

“I…” Betty paused. She couldn’t say she’d _never_ entertained the idea, but at the end of that line of thought was the practical reality: she didn’t have the _means_ to run. She would need money or a place to go or a trade to practice, something to get her started, and she was half afraid that without any help, she’d simply become lost in the woods and die on her own, and that was if her father didn’t find her first and drag her back to the manor. Running away was a last-ditch _emergency only_ plan.

“We could go, you know. You and me, just like it was when we were kids.”

She turned towards him and wasn’t surprised to see a bright smile on his face, hope in his eyes. The idea was appealing, if she allowed herself to entertain the fantasy. They had more of a chance together than apart. They could run off, maybe start a life together. They could even have a family one day. Not to mention that out of everyone in her life, she knew that she could _trust_ Archie. He was the one person she would ever want to run away with, her one constant through thick and then, good times and bad.

It didn’t sound so bad, running away. Not when she thought about doing it with him.

“Where would we go, hm?” she asked, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“Greendale,” he said quickly. “It’s a totally different kingdom with different rules— did you know eighty percent of Greendale citizens actively practice magic? I know you’ve always wanted to learn more about magic, and I could be a knight just like I always wanted—”

And just like that, the spell faded, and practical Elizabeth Cooper was back.

“Archie,” Betty sighed, shaking her head. Clearly, he _thought_ he’d thought this through. “You know that I don’t have many marketable real-life skills,” she said bitterly. Daughters of nobles were trained to be pretty parlor pieces, not practical, hardworking women. As much theoretical knowledge as she had about crops and

“You’re a mechanical genius!” he insisted.

“Yes, and I can’t make a living off that. Your father was a blacksmith and a carpenter, but I’m not strong enough to do that kind of work on my own. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind being a maid somewhere, though…” she mused.

Archie dipped his head and caught her mouth in a kiss, pulling her into his lap. Betty smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck, laughing as she kissed him back. He made her feel warm and safe, and she reveled in the knowledge that the true golden boy of Riverdale wanted _her_. After all of these years, she hadn’t been remiss in saving her heart for him.

“Think about it? For me?” he urged, pressing soft kisses to her cheek, her jaw, her neck.

“Anything for you,” she sighed.

It couldn’t hurt to simply consider it, right?

* * *

Long before sunrise, Betty was back in her room, boots and cloak safely hidden behind a loose floorboard where no one would bother to look for them. Her midnight trysts with Archie were an ongoing dalliance, and she planned to keep them going as long as possible. Years of friendly meetings to help ease the pain of isolation had given way into the last few weeks of stolen kisses and heated touches. Granted, Betty wasn’t sure she was prepared to do everything with him, but she melted when his mouth was on her and she found his touch comforting in an otherwise cold world.

The daughter of Duke Cooper, Lady Elizabeth Cooper had been trained from a young age in the arts of music, embroidery, dance, and not to mention social graces. Her mother was prim and perfect, her sister was prim and perfect, and Elizabeth was expected to follow along in the same fashion. She dined and danced and kept up with the court, did her reading and schooling and followed along with plans for the day, and by the time she was sixteen had generally resigned herself to court life despite a few undeniable facts…

The first fact: Lady Elizabeth Cooper _hated_ embroidery. She made stitches passively, if _perfectly_ , stabbing needle through cloth with a kind of cultivated, focused apathy that only came from many years of staring out a window without much more than needle and thread to keep her company. She enjoyed music, but she was not permitted to publicly perform. After all, she was an unmarried woman of twenty-one years, and putting herself on display in front of the court would be a scandal beyond belief. She loved dancing, but Riverdale nobles rarely danced, and when they did it was all proper pavanes instead of galloping gavottes or twisting tarantellas. Despite the grooming and graces and five years of resignation, she still could not entirely suppress the part of herself that craved something more.

The second fact: She did not know exactly how to satisfy that craving. A soul mate could potentially bring her out of this place and out into the world. If she found them, Riverdale’s laws stated that they could not legally be denied the right to marry based on status, station, gender, or family line. Essentially, if a crown prince’s soul mate turned out to be an orphan boy from the wrong side of town, they could not be denied a marriage. It could result in a true rags-to-riches story for an unsuspecting someone… or, depending on who her soul mate _was_ , it could tie Betty to this court for the rest of her life.

The third fact: She couldn’t even seem to convince most of the people she knew to call her “Betty,” much less let her leave this place and explore the world. Since her sister’s entanglement with the crown prince, her parents kept her in the house like a bird in a cage, wings clipped so tightly that even if she were to leave, she would never stand a chance in the outside world. A maid brought her meals and occasionally brough books, if she requested them, but the Coopers had barely allowed their daughter to leave her room in three years. The only exceptions to this rule were family meals, such as—

“Breakfast!”

A maid threw open Betty’s bedroom door, which only a moment before had been locked from the outside. Betty groaned and turned over in bed, slowly extricating herself from the blankets. The sun hadn’t quite risen yet, the sky only a little lighter than the dark shade it had been when she went to meet Archie. 

“Good morning,” Betty mumbled as her feet touched the ground. She knew the next part of the routine.

Corset over chemise. Petticoat over corset. Dress over everything. Sit for the maid to arrange her long, blonde hair into whatever style the maid chose— Betty had stopped caring years ago. Today’s hairstyle was an ornate braid, though it was unclear why the maid went to so much trouble. No one outside the house would see it, after all.

Betty carefully put on a pair of satin slippers that were eerily clean, as they had never been outside the house, and carefully made her way downstairs to join her mother and father for a meal. She had been locked in her room for so long that even the rest of the manor had started to feel foreign to her. Corridors that she once played hide-and-seek down as a child now felt ghostly and distant, and the only parts of the house that existed in her daily life were her room and the dining room.

“Any word from Polly?” she asked as she took a seat in the dining room, just as she asked every morning.

“Not today,” her father replied, just as he did most mornings.

“Maybe we could arrange a visit?” she asked carefully, taking a bite of crusty bread.

“You know that’s impossible,” Duchess Cooper said, shaking her head. “Besides, we can’t allow anything to happen to you as it did to Polly.”

Betty pressed her lips together in a tight line, hands clenched into fists where they sat in her lap. Her parents had locked down the house after they learned that Polly was _involved_ with Prince Jason. They hadn’t stopped Polly from leaving the house, and they weren’t stopping her, but admitting that would only cause a security crackdown. She’d never be able to leave again. Instead, she chose to rebel in whatever small way that she thought she could handle right then, just at that moment, just as she sat at the too-quiet dining table.

“I am not Polly,” she said very softly.

Her voice might as well have been as loud as a cannon going off. Her father paused, if only briefly, before he went back to his food. Apparently, Hal Cooper did not want to be involved in family drama, preferring instead to ignore the problems and pretend that things were perfectly normal even when one daughter was pregnant and locked in the Blossom palace while the other was locked in her own room. Alice Cooper, however, was not one to ignore even the smallest detail, including her daughter’s only outward sign of rebellion in months.

“ _Elizabeth_ ,” her mother said in a tone that could only be interpreted as _seething anger_. “You will stay here, in this house, until the day you are married. That is final.”

“How am I supposed to find someone to marry if I never leave this house?” she cried.

“Your father and I will handle that, as we have made very clear. We know what’s best for you.” Duchess Cooper carefully folded her napkin and rang the bell for the maid.

“Yes, Duchess?” the girl asked timidly, rushing into the dining room.

“I believe Elizabeth will be taking her lunch and supper in her room today,” she said coolly, eyes never leaving her daughter.

“Of course, ma’am.”

The maid nodded and left as quickly as she had come, and that was the end of that conversation.

Betty returned to her room as soon as she finished her meal, escorted by a maid on each side that locked the door behind her. When she looked down, she found a dark red stain on her pale pink skirt and blinked. It wasn’t time for her monthly, so…

When she opened her hand, four bloody crescents stood out against the pale skin of her palm.

* * *

Betty didn’t sneak away to meet Archie again for another two days. They could only occasionally meet, and sometimes one of them would show up while the other wasn’t able to make it— sickness, family emergencies, or even something as simple as Betty overhearing that her mother was reinstating bed checks in the wee hours of the morning was enough to keep them apart. It was frustrating, but that was the way things were.

She’d been thinking about his proposal.

Greendale was a very different place than the kingdom of Riverdale. There, the citizens actively practiced magic, whereas in Riverdale it was seen as more of a… fact of life. It existed, but very few people practiced it, and they took even fewer apprentices. In fact, some magic was even considered taboo due to the presence of the Serpents south of Riverdale’s border, a shifter clan that was known to make trouble in some of the rougher areas of the kingdom. They had their own territory and rulers, but that didn’t stop them from sneaking in and out of the kingdom, and much of the crime in Riverdale was attributed to the Serpents. Whether or not that was true or a product of suspicion and fear, Betty didn’t know.

She wasn’t thinking about the Serpents or crime or possible trouble that evening when she slipped out of bed, though. She was thinking about Archie. His smile was all she could see when she donned her simple skirt, blouse, and cloak, when she slid her feet into worn leather boots, when she carefully climbed down the side of the tower.

The guards shouldn’t be coming this way again for another twenty minutes, which typically gave her plenty of time to slip through the gardens, move around the corner of the house, and slink through the tall grass that bordered the estate. There shouldn’t have been anyone else out that night.

However, it seemed that things were different this time.

As she rounded the corner, Betty jumped when she saw a dark shadow heading her way, a quiet gasp slipping from her lips. Her first instinct told her that it was a guard, that her charade was up, and that she would never be able to leave the house again after tonight. There was one problem with that conclusion, though: he didn’t sound the alarm. On the contrary, he moved closer.

No, no. He _barreled_ towards her, black clothing making him look like nothing short of a living shadow. He moved so quickly that Betty couldn’t quite process what was happening until a shout from across the dark courtyard clued her in.

“He went this way!”

The man cursed under his breath as he broke into a full out run, still headed directly towards her. Betty scrambled to get away from him, but it was too late, and he was too fast.

“Sorry about this,” he said quickly. She did not recognize his voice, but suddenly his hand was in hers, tugging her along behind him. Betty stumbled and nearly fell as he dragged her around the corner and pulled her down behind a line of tall bushes next to the house. Struggle as she might, she gave way and landed in his lap, the two of them wedged between the bushes and the cold stone of the manor exterior. One of his hands covered her mouth, his free arm wrapping around her waist to pull her close to his chest. Betty could feel his breathing as her own heartbeat roared in her ears, faster and louder than a stampede. She tried to scream, but his hand muffled the sound like it was nothing at all.

“Shut up, _please_ ,” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear. “Stop struggling. I’m not going to hurt you— in fact, I swear that I’ll let you go if you just _shut up_.” Betty struggled anyways, held fast with her back to his chest, but he held fast, even managing to silence his shout when she very firmly kicked him in the groin. Now that he was closer, she could see that he wore a ridiculous hat over equally ridiculous, unruly dark hair. He was tall and his features were soft— _pretty_ , almost.

“Split up and search the passages. Question any staff members you see passing by.” Betty knew that voice. It was Reggie, one of the guards on night watch around the manor. She couldn’t see him for the bushes, but he was certainly there. If she were to fight, Reggie might hear her and come to the rescue, and yet…

One shout could cost Betty her freedom as well.

Every single cell in her body told her that she should be panicking. She should be terrified, pressed against a stranger’s chest while footsteps drew closer and closer from across the courtyard… but she didn’t _feel_ terrified, not in the way she should. She was much more frightened of her father or the night watch locating her than she was of the man keeping her silent, and something about that seemed so wrong on so many logical levels.

The arm around her waist held fast, but the hand over her mouth loosened slowly, like he was testing if she’d try to escape or scream. She didn’t. The fear of discovery was stronger than her curiosity at this moment, and Betty didn’t want to know what might happen if anyone knew she’d heard those words. Instead, she looked up at the man behind her, watching his face as they waited with bated breath. His eyes were trained on the bushes, as if he could see through them to the shadowy figures on the garden path, muscles tense and ready for a fight.

Her thoughts whirled as the footfalls of the night watch moved past them and faded into the distance. Who was the person currently holding her ( _hostage_?) behind the bushes? Why was he near the manor at all? The guards were chasing him, so clearly there was a grudge somewhere along the line… He hadn’t killed her on sight, which probably meant he wasn’t there to murder her, but why sneak around?

Before she could come up with legitimate answers to any of those questions, a new set of footsteps founded the corner, drawing closer to their hiding spot. No… more than one set.

“How did he get in here?” someone asked. She couldn’t see them for the bushes, but it was a man. Not her father, but perhaps her father’s age.

“Does it matter?” another man replied. Betty thought she recognized the first voice, but not the second. More visitors to the manner? And at this time of night? Almost against her will, she found herself leaning forward, tying to hear, but the arms around her tugged her back.

“It’ll be easy to shut the snakes down once their prince is dead. They’re no more than a group of petty thieves, anyhow,” the voice continued. “You’re certain you can do that for me?”

“Quite certain.”

“What’s in it for you?”

That was both the moment that Betty recognized the first voice and the moment she knew that they were listening to a conversation that no one had been meant to hear. A cold shiver ran down her spine as she squeezed her eyes shut, hands balled into tight fists. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t will herself to uncurl them all the way. The stranger’s hand came to rest on top of hers, intertwining their fingers in an odd, comforting gesture that she wouldn’t have expected.

“Let’s just say I have my own interest in this matter. If the southern shifter clan and all their various affiliates fall, some very precious cargo will be returned to me.”

The rest of the conversation was utterly unintelligible as the footsteps faded into the distance. The figures seemed to have turned around, heading back inside to the safety of the manor and reasonably assured that the threat— the man currently wrapped around her behind the bushes— had left the area. She didn’t know how long they stayed behind the bushes. It could have been five minutes, or it could have been an hour. In any case, Betty relaxed a fraction at a time as the silence dragged on and the night watch did not return.

Something felt… off. It was hard to sense under the panic, but beyond the feeling of clenching her teeth together, beyond trying to calm her breathing or uncurl her fists, something was _different_. It was calm and adrenaline at the same time. It was odd skip in her chest when his cautious expression softened and he wrapped his other arm around her waist, dropping his chin to rest on her shoulder as he sighed softly in relief. It was the fact that Betty was completely and totally certain that if someone found them _right now_ , he would take her with him. She’d never been more certain of anything.

And she had absolutely no idea why.

“You heard what I just heard, right?” he whispered, like he couldn’t be certain.

“Yes,” she breathed, nodding. “It sounded like—" Betty turned, suddenly finding herself almost nose to nose with him. It sounded like someone was sending an assassin to go after the Serpents. That was what she’d meant to say, but her words caught in her throat the second she looked up.

His blue-gray eyes were almost all she could focus on, and she reached up to brush floppy strands of his dark hair out of his face before she could stop herself. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, for just long enough that he started to lean into her touch. With his free hand, he traced gently along her jaw line, and for the smallest second, she thought his hold on her tightened. She watched as his gaze dropped to her lips, and Betty had never so inexplicably wanted to kiss anyone more in her life. For the tiniest moment, she thought that he wanted to kiss her, too.

And then his eyes went wide with what Betty could only describe as sheer panic as he bolted away from her, shoving her off his body as he scrambled back.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he swore, sliding away from her in their small hiding spot as he tore at the sleeve of his dark shirt, pulling it upward to expose his right forearm. There, as if drawn on in brown ink, was what looked like a flower bud surrounded by swirling vines. In the next moment he had a hold of her right arm, pushing up the sleeve of her blouse to reveal a matching design.

It took Betty a moment to process what she was seeing. The flower wasn’t there before. She hadn’t drawn it on, and her first instinct was to rub at the design to see if it came off, which was ridiculous. It wasn’t going to come off. It would never come off as long as she lived.

Clearly, her new soul mate processed the situation much, _much_ faster.

He practically jumped through the bushes, scrambling to get away from her, still looking a little flushed.

“Shit, fuck, mother _fucking_ — I have _got_ to get out of here.” He turned to leave, but Betty grabbed for him, latching onto his arm more out of instinct than from a conscious decision.

“What? No! Who _are_ you?” she hissed, still trying to keep her voice down. He stumbled a little, but didn’t fall, looking her over incredulously.

“Who are _you_? God, tell me you’re not a princess. Tell me you’re a nobody who happens to have nice clothes,” he mumbled, rubbing his temple with his free hand.

“Don’t you even know who’s house you’re at?” Betty asked, blinking. “I’m Betty— Betty Cooper. I’m also not moving another step until you tell me your name.”

“Great,” he groaned, finally managing to wrench his arm free of her grasp. “Listen, I… Okay, I’m Jughead, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to be killed if those guards find me, so I need to leave _immediately_. You can choose to come with me if you want, or better yet, _stay put_!” He was struggling to keep his voice low, checking over his shoulder for other people every few seconds, but Betty simply stood there, confused.

“Jughead. Your _name_ … is… Jughead?” she asked slowly.

“That’s me,” he said with a sigh and a wince.

Betty suddenly felt a stinging pain in her side. It was somewhere along her ribcage, like a long, slashing burn, but she couldn’t see anything wrong. Her blouse was intact, and she could barely see any scratches from the bushes. However, when she looked over at Jughead, it was clear that he was surreptitiously holding his arm close to his torso. He shifted under her gaze and the pain flared.

“You’re hurt,” she said quietly, understanding dawning. However, when she tried to step towards him, he shuffled away, shaking his head, dark hair flopping into his face once more.

“I’m fine, and I have to go. Trust me when I say that you don’t want to come looking for me.”

Betty had approximately fifty-seven more questions for him, but now was quite clearly not the time. There was another clamor from across the gardens, and she knew that her paranoid mother would probably arrive in her bedroom at any second to check in. Doors locked or not, Alice Cooper would not be convinced that her daughter was safe without seeing it with her own eyes. As much as she wanted to stay, to force him to talk, or even to follow along after him as he left… she couldn’t.

Jughead scrambled away from her and ran across the gardens, following the path that she might have taken to meet Archie in the woods on some other dark, moonless night. Betty thought, but could not be sure, that she saw him glance back over his shoulder once.

Every instinct in her body screamed to run after him, but her logical thought processes managed to overpower them. Instead, Betty scrambled back up to her third story tower room, shed her cloak and boots, and somehow managed to throw herself into bed just in time for the door to open.

“Elizabeth?”

She managed a sleepy mumble and rolled over but avoided sitting up, keeping the blankets close to cover her outdoor clothing. “What’s wrong?”

Alice seemed satisfied by that simple reply.

“Nothing, dear. Go back to bed.”

The door shut with a thump and the lock clicked into place behind her.

Betty lay still for a long moment, listening for any more commotion outside, but all seemed to be quiet. Her heart was still pounding in her chest like she’d just run a marathon, but she couldn’t push away the nagging feeling that perhaps it wasn’t _her_ heart. What was he feeling out there? The pain in her side hadn’t ceased, but she couldn’t feel any other signals from him. Was this what it was like? Research said that soul mates shared different kinds of connections, that they were unique to each pair, but it wasn’t unheard of to have a shared heartbeat, to project thoughts, or even— very rarely— transferring illnesses from one partner to the other

Betty found herself slinking out of bed as all these thoughts filtered through her mind, padding over to the window and drawing the drapes aside. There were two dull lanterns moving slowly across the border of the estate. The night watch, obviously, back to their normal rounds after the excitement. Besides that, there were only the stars and the distant darkness.

Jughead, her _soul mate_ , had disappeared into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all! I'm new to the Riverdale scene and just kind of decided to take a shot at writing this. If you like it, pretty please let me know and I'll figure out if it's something I should continue. I'll probably post the next chapter within the next couple of days. Thanks for reading!


	2. In Which Betty Knows First Aid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the kind feedback on the first chapter! I hope that this chapter answers a few questions (though I know it has also created a few more in the process). I'm excited to present the second chapter, and I've made a few plans in the way of outlining the rest of this fic. For now, it looks like I'll be continuing it. All the best to you!

He didn’t go far.

Bett wasn’t certain how she knew, but she _knew_. She could feel him, and she could still feel the sting in his side where he hadn’t tended to that wound properly. There were others, too, that she felt sometimes: his right shoulder was badly bruised and his wrist was hurt somehow. Sprained, possibly.

“Elizabeth.”

She’d spent all evening and the better part of the morning in a state of complete and utter panic. There were dark circles under her eyes from where shed tossed and turned all night, clutching her side in between fitful snatches of sleep. Logically, Betty should have been more concerned about the conversation she’d overheard from the bushes. It wasn’t every day that an assassin went out to kill someone in a neighboring territory, and it certainly wasn’t every day that the king of Riverdale sent them on their way.

Betty still couldn’t identify the second voice they’d heard. However, she was almost absolutely certain that one of the men outside their house had been Clifford Blossom. Why he would want to put a bounty on the Serpent Prince, she didn’t know. The Serpents mostly kept to themselves or kept to the southern part of the kingdom when they entered Riverdale at all. Maybe it was a land grab? Maybe he had some reason to want revenge against the Serpents?

And what was the precious cargo that the second man referenced?

“Elizabeth?”

She couldn’t stop thinking about Jughead, his dark hair and lovely, almost _delicate_ facial features invading every spare space of her thoughts…

And then she remembered that Archie would be waiting for her tonight, and the thought made her sick to her stomach. She’d nearly _cheated_ on Archie, on the person she’d been in love with her whole life! Then again, she wasn’t certain if it was cheating. Though Archie had clearly been warming up to her and giving her more attention in a romantic way, they’d never once established what kind of relationship they had. It would be difficult to carry on a real courtship from the woods, and a few weeks of stolen kisses did not amount to a real love, as much as that thought made her heart ache.

And Jughead… he was her soul mate.

Wasn’t finding him meant to be the real goal?

“Elizabeth!”

Betty jumped, dishes rattling on the table as she straightened up in her chair, turning to face her mother.

“What on earth are you daydreaming about?” Duchess Cooper asked, shaking her head.

The truth: assassins, climbing towers, Archie, the Serpents, and a pair of gorgeous eyes that she wished she could see again.

“Nothing, I’m sorry,” Betty said, shaking her head. “I haven’t been feeling well.”

“Palms,” Alice said, holding out her own hand. Betty reluctantly showed her palms to her mother, the new cuts raised and sensitive. “I’ll have the maids bring medical supplies to your room later. Clean those up. I’ll have to order a pair of gloves for next week, though.”

“Next week?” Betty asked curiously.

“We have an event,” Alice explained curtly. “You’ll be required to attend with us. It’s at the palace. The Blossoms are hosting.”

“Polly,” Betty murmured, barely aware that she’d spoken out loud.

“Yes, your sister will be there. You’ll be traveling with your father and I and we’ll all be home well before midnight.”

As usual, Duke Cooper did not respond. He didn’t seem to have any strong opinions about Betty’s attendance or about Alice’s projected timeline for their return. Betty, on the other hand, was too busy calculating all the things that might allow her to spend as much time as possible with her sister, thinking over all the questions she wanted to ask.

And then there was that sting in her side again, the pain flaring insistently. That was another series of questions she needed to ask, yet another thing she needed to do.

“Of course,” she said absently, gently placing a hand over her ribs.

* * *

Sneaking out during the day was not one of Betty’s favorite things. It took far more calculating to time the climb down from her window, and even then, she’d almost been caught partway up the wall. Only her quick thinking and a very lucky landing saved her, and even then, she’d managed to twist her ankle upon impact. It throbbed dully with every step as she crept through the tall grass on her hands and knees, only daring to stand up once she was well inside the woods.

The one good thing about Alice’s strict monitoring of her daughter’s hands was the medical supplies in her room. She had plenty of bandages, herbs, and various potions and poultices to take with her on this journey. Betty also took her lunch in her room, and she had wrapped up the bread and hunk of cheese that the cook sent up with her soup. Inconvenient as this excursion might be, at least she didn’t have to sneak out of the house, into the kitchens for supplies, and then back out again.

Armed with her bag of supplies and a very strong hope that the soul mate bond would help her locate Jughead, Betty took off into the trees, hitching up her skirt for ease of movement as she trekked through the underbrush. When she reached the farthest landmark that she knew, she reached into her bag and pulled out a large roll of twine, tying it securely to a bush. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. With luck, she’d find him before the roll ran out. Without luck, she’d be no worse off than she would have without the thread.

His heartbeat was like an insistent drumming in her ears. Out here, in the quiet of the forest, she could hear it, could feel his breathing, like his body was somehow in tune with her own. If she focused, it was so easy to tell which way to walk. It felt right, like she was headed towards a part of her that was missing, and every step she found herself moving faster and faster towards her destination.

She found him across a creek that fed into Sweetwater River, about three hundred paces after her twine ran out. He was on the ground, eyes closed, cloak bundled under his head and still clad in the same dark clothing from the night before. Betty sprinted towards him, ignoring the throbbing protests from her ankle, and sank to her knees beside him, checking the pulse point on his neck.

It was a silly instinct, considering their situation. She knew he was alive. She would _always_ know. However, she couldn’t stop herself from checking, just in case, couldn’t stop herself from smoothing his hair away from his face or checking him for other injuries besides the one she felt most predominantly.

“ _What_ are you doing?” he groaned, eyes fluttering open. Betty gasped and drew back briefly.

“Ch— checking your pulse,” she stuttered. Jughead winced and tried to sit up, but utterly failed. “Hey, no, stay there a minute!”

Betty gently put pressure on his shoulders, forcing him to stay on the ground where he’d been sleeping. Unfortunately, Jughead wasn’t having it. Instead of lying still, he tried to swat her hands away. It was a futile effort, though.

“I’m not _dying_. We all have to sleep sometime,” he insisted, “and I thought I told you _specifically_ not to follow me.”

“You did, but it was pretty clear you need medical attention. I can _feel_ your injury.” She gestured to her own side, outlining the place where she felt the pain. Jughead didn’t seem convinced.

“I can handle myself—”

“ _Shut up_ and let me help you,” she snapped. Betty had been ordered around enough for a lifetime, and she wasn’t about to have an injured person ordering her _not_ to care for him.

For a moment, he froze, their eyes locked in a battle of wits or wills or something else entirely intangible, just out of reach. His skin was warm under her touch, and she waited until he finally relaxed before she moved her hands, letting himself rest on the ground in a silent signal of surrender. Jughead nodded slowly, Adam’s apple bobbing, and Betty was positive that she saw his gaze drop to her mouth, however briefly. She drew back slowly, testing to see if he’d try to sit up again, but he didn’t. Instead, he caught her wrist as she moved away, his grip surprisingly gentle as his thumb traced over the back of her hand.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. Only a moment later, he let go, but she could feel the ghost of his touch on her skin.

“We don’t have much time,” Betty said quickly, a deep blush rising to her cheeks as she fished supplies out of her bag— a waterskin, a bowl for the water, and clean cloths, just to start. “I need to be back by supper, or they’ll notice I’m gone. Help me… um…”

She blushed even more furiously as she fumbled with the dark fabric of Jughead’s shirt, lifting the hem up as gently as she could. There was a makeshift bandage tied around his torso made of dark fabric, probably a piece of his cloak, but she couldn’t see well while trying to lift his shirt, and that bandage likely needed to be changed.

“This needs to come off,” she muttered. He laughed weakly, but adjusted his position so she carefully slip the shirt over his head.

“You’re very eager to strip me.” The look in his eyes was playful, but she could feel the strain when he moved.

“I have to clean the wound, which I can’t really get to like this, and it would be nice to wash this shirt, too,” Betty said, rolling her eyes, but she couldn’t seem to keep the smile from her face or the blush from her cheeks.

She couldn’t seem stop herself from looking at the expanse of bare skin on display when he pulled the shirt off, either. He was lean and a little lanky, but she could see just enough definition in his abs and arms that it made her want to _touch_ , just a _little_. Tattoos covered his left arm in ornate, dark swirls that went from shoulder to just past his wrist, the individual designs perfectly interlocking as they spiraled down his arm. Betty’s gaze lingered on those designs for what she opened wasn’t too long, resting on the place at the top of his arm where an ornate “S” shaped like a two-headed snake crowned the entire design.

A Serpent, she realized. He was a Serpent.

No wonder he wanted to get out of Riverdale. Serpents weren’t exactly welcome, and if he’d been caught anywhere near her father’s estate for any reason, they would have chased him and questioned him. Her father was particularly hard on Serpents for reasons that Betty didn’t quite understand.

“What? Think the snake’s going to gobble you up?” Jughead teased.

“I think you cope with your pain by joking around,” she said gently, still blushing, but she managed to tear her eyes away from his tattoos and focus on the job at hand. “Besides, you’re my soul mate. I think I’d probably be able to tell if you were dangerous.”

Jughead opened his mouth. Closed it.

Betty’s brow furrowed as she worked, the dark truth of her words dawning on her. She really wasn’t certain that she _could_ be scared of him, even if she was supposed to be. In any case, she wasn’t scared, and maybe for now she should simply choose to believe it was because he wasn’t dangerous. Her nimble fingers quickly worked the bandage loose, but she found it stuck fast to his skin from dried blood. Though he was silent as Betty opened the waterskin and used a damp, clean cloth to loosen the bandage, she could feel Jughead’s eyes on her the entire time, tracing her movements.

“It’s lucky you’re close to a creek,” she said absently. “The water will be cold this time of year, but it’s clean.” It would be useful for cleaning his injury or refilling the waterskin.

“What did you do to your ankle?” he asked as she pulled away the bandage. Betty stared at him for a moment, wondering why he would ask or how he could know, but a moment later she felt entirely foolish. He could feel the injury, just as she could feel his. That was the only explanation.

“I… um, I had to land a little faster than I thought when I left the house, and I twisted it,” she admitted, shrugging as she continued to clean the wound. It was very lucky he’d had the good sense to bandage it. The cut was deep, probably from a knife or one of the swords the night watch carried, and things could be much worse right now if he hadn’t staunched the blood flow.

“Since when does the Duke’s daughter have to sneak in and out of her own house?” he scoffed, wincing slightly as she cleaned the wound. She fought not to roll her eyes. It stung a _little_ , Betty thought, having felt it like it was her own, but not near as badly as the actual wound must have hurt.

“Since three years ago, when my parents decided that it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to leave my bedroom, much less the house,” she said with a sigh. “I don’t normally sneak out during the day because it’s harder to get in and out unseen, but there were… extenuating circumstances,” she said pointedly.

“They just decided that their daughter suddenly had to be locked away?”

“My sister turned down a marriage proposal and took a position as a lady-in-waiting for Princess Cheryl. They… did not react well,” Betty said curtly. It was clear now that Polly took the position primarily to leave the Cooper household, but at the time Betty thought it was because she didn’t want to marry anyone. That may have been partly true, too, looking back. In any case, being a lady-in-waiting opened more doors to Polly than she’d had, gave her more choices.

One of those choices had led to Polly’s current situation, though: pregnant with Prince Jason’s illegitimate children. Polly seemed happy, but Betty was concerned. They’d been sleeping together for almost a year, and Polly was three months pregnant, so said the doctors. What would happen when the children were born? Would the Blossoms even want them? Would they want _Polly_? There were too many questions and too few answers.

Betty continued to clean the wound as carefully as possible, washing off the excess blood and applying a poultice to ward off infection. It would sting, but it was better than a putrid wound. Assuming he was headed back to Serpent territory, that would keep him going long enough to make the journey.

“How do you know how to do this?” he asked carefully.

“I don’t have a tragic battlefield backstory, if that’s what you’re asking,” Betty said gently. “I just read. There isn’t much else to do when you’re trapped in a bedroom, so I try to read things that are useful. Medical textbooks are at the top of that list.” She carefully plastered a bandage over the wound, smoothing out the edges to make certain that they stuck fast.

“You do know my life isn’t in danger from this, right?” he asked, voice just a little raspy. When he looked up, his eyes were glued on her hand where it rested on his ribs, still absently smoothing over the bandage.

“You do know that I don’t just worry about people when their lives are in danger, right?” she echoed.

He didn’t respond to that one, but a tiny smile played across his lips in a way that made her heart race and her stomach flip. It was a little ridiculous— she was a grown woman, not a teenager with a raging sex drive. She shouldn’t be as completely thrown as she was simply by sitting next to him.

“Let me help you up,” she insisted. Betty carefully slipped her arm behind him, her hand splayed across his bare back as she helped him sit. He steadied himself on her upper arm, pulling her closer in the process.

Betty’s heartbeat pounded in her ears. In the process of helping him up, she’d pulled him towards her, sitting nearly chest to chest as she tried very hard not to stare at his mouth. The hand that had supported him now rested on his shoulder, and her fingers tangled in the soft, dark curls at the nape of his neck.

“How are you feeling?” she whispered, almost scared to break the silence. He rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling. Betty’s eyes fluttered closed as she leaned into the touch, shivering when his hand slid to the small of her back.

“Better.”

Of course, Betty knew that. The ache in her side had dulled just a little. She simply wanted something to distract her, _anything_ to distract her from the inexplicable pull towards the man in front of her. More than almost anything she’d ever felt, she wanted to kiss him. She _could_ kiss him. It would be so easy from their current position. He was warm and handsome, and something in her heart whispered that he was _safe_ , safer even than Archie—

Betty gasped and pulled back, sliding away from him just enough to put some safe distance between them. Jughead looked at her like she’d grown an extra head as a strange storm of feelings swirled in her chest.

She’d almost kissed her soul mate. Her soul mate, who was not the man she was currently in love with. Her soul mate, who called to her in some way that she couldn’t explain and wasn’t sure she wanted to. How much of it was the magic and how much of it was _them_? Were soul mates anything more than a twisted form of normalized love spell? Would it go away after she slept with him like some love spells?

Did she _want_ to sleep with him?

 _Yes_. Absolutely. That was the soul bond, though, not _Betty_. At least, she was fairly certain it was only the soul bond…

“Why am I picking up a sense of overwhelming guilt?” Jughead asked, blinking as his brow furrowed. “That’s _definitely_ not from me— yeah, and the redhead currently invading my memories isn’t mine, either.” He carefully pushed himself up from the ground and stretched, sighing as he started to pace in circles around the glade like a caged animal.

“Sorry,” Betty mumbled, biting her lip. “I… sorry. I don’t think I can do this.” She felt sick to her stomach with nerves, shifting to lean back against the massive roots of a tree as if it could provide emotional as well as physical support.

“I’m not sure we’re _supposed_ to think…” Jughead muttered, shaking his head. Betty knew what he meant. Soul mate bonds were notorious for activating some strange, primal lust instinct. It seemed to be half magic, half biological, and certainly annoying for the time being. “Okay, um, let’s get bare basics. Things we need to know about each other,” he said firmly.

“You already know my name and who my family members are, and you know why I’m living at the palace. I’m twenty-one years old. I’m not married or engaged. What else do you need to know?”

Jughead looked at her curiously for a moment, like he wanted to say something, but he shook his head. “Nothing. That’s plenty.”

“How about you?” Betty tucked her knees to her chest and watched him as he walked. Though she was aware that his shirt needed to be cleaned before he put it back on, she wondered if it would be easier to think if there wasn’t quite so much skin on display.

“Well, I’m… a wizard. I’m not from here. Passing through, really.”

“A wizard?” she asked, brightening. “You know magic?”

“I study it, yeah,” Jughead said, giving a tired smile. “I’m not as good as some of my friends, but I’m getting there. You could say I’m more interested in magic scholarship and theory than actual practice.”

Interesting. Betty had about a hundred more questions to ask him about that, but she needed to keep those to a minimum right now. Besides, if he was more interested in theory, it seemed like he should be in a library, not out traipsing around Riverdale late at night and running from guards.

“Why were the guards chasing you out?” she asked, finally pushing herself to her feet.

“Riverdale nobles don’t exactly like me,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck.

“Why?” Betty pressed, stepping closer.

“I’m a Serpent. They don’t need any other reason.”

Betty frowned. That didn’t seem like a good enough reason. Yes, the crime increase was attributed to the Serpents, but King Clifford had never been able to find enough proof to validate his claims. Betty wasn’t one to take information at face value, but she also knew that plenty of the Riverdale citizens, noble or not, would believe every word he sad without a single question.

“Listen to me,” Jughead said softly. “I think you know as well as I do that I have to get out of Riverdale, and that you can’t come with me. On the off chance that they figure out you helped me, the less you know, the better. Besides, you’re pretty clearly in love with someone else. You should lean into that.”

“You’re not… I don’t know, feeling jilted by that?” Betty asked, eyebrow raised.

“Should I be?” Jughead blinked. “You’ve known me for less than twenty-four hours and I may very well have been burglarizing your home when we met— I _wasn’t_ , for the record, but I could have been. A soul mate bond doesn’t require us to stay together, it just makes things… complicated.”

“Well, I may not be a wizard, but I know that soul mate bonds are volatile magic at best. How can you be sure nothing bad is going to happen if you just… take off?” she asked, bristling.

“I can’t be,” he admitted, “but I’m _positive_ that worse things will happen if I stay or if I take you, so just… I’ll come back, okay? I’ll come back and we can fix this.”

“I…” Betty began, suddenly feeling something in her chest drop. _Fix it,_ she heard on repeat in her head, even as she wondered vaguely what was broken. It hurt to hear him say that, but she didn’t really understand why. Not everyone married their soul mate, logically. Surely somewhere out there, someone hadn’t. She also didn’t even know this man. The opinion of someone who she’d only just met shouldn’t matter to her, but somewhere in the back of her mind, something whispered that this was just her luck.

She’d managed to find her soul mate. Sure, he might have an odd name, but he was beautiful and she’d never quite felt so attracted to anyone in her life— and yes, that was the bond. That was the _magic_. He didn’t seem outright terrible, though, and he wasn’t even a member of the Riverdale court. He was everything that she thought she wanted when she was thirteen and listening to stories about soul mates and dragons and knights who rescued princesses…

But she was not a princess, and she was already in love, and he didn’t want her anyways.

It shouldn’t sting like it did.

“Okay,” she finally whispered.

“Look, just because this soul mate bond is causing us to feel a very odd and very insistent brand of arousal does not mean that we’re _really_ attracted to each other, nor does it mean that we should actually be together,” he said bluntly. He snatched his shirt from the tree branch and slipped it on again, state of cleanliness be damned.

Betty felt like she’d been slapped. She took a deep breath and steadied herself against a tree, trying to think of exactly what to say. The words didn’t come, though. How exactly did you tell someone you’d only just met that it hurt that they didn’t want to be near you for a perfectly normal reason? Jughead seemed to notice her hesitation, though, and stepped a little closer, sighing.

“Sorry. I just mean that if it were any other day, we could pass each other in the street and never make eye contact,” he continued, his tone a little gentler. “It also… So we’re clear, it doesn’t mean that there’s anything wrong with you. I’m just not in the market for a soul mate. Never have been. At best it’s inconvenient, and at worst it’s dangerous for us both. Whatever conflicted feelings you’re having right now, try and put them aside until I’m out of here. I’ve got a feeling it’ll be easier to think straight when we’re apart.”

“You’re probably right,” she admitted, though another part of her wanted to scream at him not to go.

“See what I mean about complicated?” Jughead spoke quietly, looking sympathetic. Betty wondered if he felt the same storm of feelings as she did, especially since he kept insisting that he needed to go.

“I… I can’t leave Archie,” she said softly. “I can’t just abandon him because of this.”

Jughead gently placed a hand on her shoulder and Betty looked up, glassy-eyed and conflicted. This was the person who was supposed to be _hers_ , wasn’t it? They were supposed to go together perfectly. Why couldn’t she shake the feelings she had for her childhood love in favor of that? Why couldn’t she shake the feelings she had for a perfect stranger in favor of someone she’d known all her life?

Why couldn’t it be easy?

She wondered if it was some sense of loyalty or some part of her that wanted to fight against yet another thing in her life that deprived her of a choice. Did she _want_ Archie? Did she really, truly love him as much as she said, and did she love him _romantically_? Or was this desperate clinging all an attempt to fight simply because she knew that she _chose_ Archie? At least she picked him. Even if it hurt, at least it was someone she chose to be hurt by.

This? A soul mate bond? She never chose it for herself, and Betty found herself feeling both fulfilled and disappointed all at once.

“I’m not asking you to leave him,” Jughead said slowly. “I’ll check in at home and then I’ll come back as soon as I can. It should give you some time to think, and maybe to see exactly how strange it’s going to be to live with this.”

“You won’t die before you get there, will you?” she mumbled, half afraid to ask.

“No,” he said, laughing. “No, princess, I’ll be fine. I had a good nurse.”

Betty blushed. She wasn’t sure if it was the nickname or the compliment, or simply the fact that a very good-looking man was standing in front of her, but she suddenly felt like she understood all the references to someone that made your heart race.

“Here, take this,” she said suddenly, fishing the bread and cheese out of her bag. “It’s not much, but—”

“It’s _great_ ,” he said softly. His fingers brushed hers as he took the food from her hands. “Can you find your way back?”

“Yes. And… you’ll come back?”

“I promise. We’ll talk more.” He started to reach towards her, but hesitated at the last second, dropping his hand. Instead, he simply nodded and picked up his torn cloak from the ground. Betty stood still as she watched him, wondering how he could so recklessly traipse over the border with only the clothes on his back, but maybe that was something she could learn another time.

He would come back. He had to.

* * *

_“What else do you need to know?”_ she’d asked.

He could still see the image of her imprinted in his mind, sunlight caught in her golden hair as she looked at him with those big, green eyes. _Everything_ , he’d almost said. He needed to know every single detail about her and he would commit all of them to memory.

He rubbed his eyes and shook his head, but he couldn’t rid his thoughts of Betty Cooper. The feeling in his bones when he looked at her was like nothing he'd ever known, a strange brand of attraction or arousal or something _else_ that his father had only vaguely alluded to. In any case, he shouldn't be feeling all that for someone he just met.

Logically, Jughead knew it was the soul mate bond urging him to find her and ensure the survival of the species, to put it delicately, but a soul mate was not someone he needed in his life. On the contrary, he’d been actively _avoiding_ anything that might lead him to his soul mate for the last fourteen years. Now, as he approached the southern border of Riverdale, he cursed every second of that time for leading him here.

It had taken a day longer than expected to meet up with his Serpent contact, which wasn’t good. Another day and they’d sound the alarm. Reconnaissance missions weren’t _supposed_ to be inherently dangerous, but when you were the Serpent Prince, everyone tended to get a little twitchy around your absence. Jughead had been getting restless at home, so he took a job. It was _supposed_ to be a simple scouting mission. He hadn’t expected to uncover an assassination attempt, be spotted by the guards at the last second _like a fucking amateur_ , and then unwittingly drag his soul mate into the bushes.

He also hadn't expected the person waiting on him at his checkpoint to be tall and redheaded. It was supposed to be Fangs, but the rotation sometimes changed at the last minute or if you were late for a check. Apparently, that was the case.

“Fangs said you missed the rendezvous. I was worried,” Archie said, clapping him on the back gently. Jughead tried not to wince at the contact and utterly failed. Betty was a wonderful nurse, but she couldn’t make wounds heal faster.

He felt a shiver wash over him at the memory of her hands on him, and immediately pushed that thought to the side.

“Right, yeah, about that. We have a sequence of about three major problems that need to be taken care of immediately,” he said with a groan. “First and foremost, I think the Blossom family has put a hit on my head, possibly aided by another Riverdale noble I haven’t been able to identify… _yet_.” It would be easy enough to confirm his suspicions as soon as he returned to Serpent territory.

“Okay, I’ll let the rest of the circle know to look out for an assassin,” Archie said firmly. “What’s the next problem?”

Jughead paused. Opened his mouth. Closed it. He shook his head, took a deep breath, and squeezed his eyes shut, willing the information he was about to divulge to somehow, in some way, be false.

“I found my soul mate,” he whispered.

“What?!” Archie practically screamed, and Jughead fought against the instinct to snap at him to _keep it down_. “Who? How? When? That’s _amazing_ , Jug.” To his credit, he really did sound happy, and that was impressive. Archie suffered the same minor breakdown that many teenagers did when they hadn’t found their soul mate by twenty years old, and though that was four years in the past for both of them, Jughead knew that it was still a niggling thought in his friend’s mind.

Odd, how things would have worked out perfectly if they were in each other’s shoes right now.

“She’s…” he paused. Gorgeous. Kind. Smart. And that was just what he knew from a few hours. That wasn’t what he said to Archie, though.

“She’s your latest rebound, Ithink.”

Archie actually _flinched_.

“What do you mean, Jug?”

“Elizabeth Cooper. Betty. Blonde hair, green eyes, _very_ sassy. Sound familiar?”

Archie had shared details on the girl he’d been meeting in the woods for years, claiming that they were friends and that he was doing her a favor, trying to check up on her. Recently they’d crossed that vague line into something a little more than friendly, and while Archie seemed satisfied, Jughead always thought it was a little suspicious. The one thing that hadn’t been shared? A name.

Unfortunate that he had to find out specifics from witnessing his own soul mate’s residual thoughts.

“ _Shit_ ,” Archie muttered. “She’s… she’s not a rebound, Jug. At least, I… I don’t think she is."

“Well, you better make up your mind on that one _quickly_ , because all she could think about while we were discussing what the hell this bond means for us was _you_.” He tried and failed to keep the bitter edge out of his tone. Of course, of _course_ he found his soul mate and she was already in love with perfect Archie Andrews. Feelings of moderate jealousy mixed with the completely logical conclusion that even if she wasn’t, he couldn’t _keep_ her. Betty wouldn’t be able to stay even if she wasn’t already attached to Jughead’s best friend. Thus, it didn’t matter.

Damn, it did _sting_ a bit, though.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

“It’s not your fault,” he said, less bitterly, because it wasn’t. There was no possible way for anyone to know who their soul mate was before touching them, and there certainly was not a way to identify your best friend’s soul mate on sight. “She couldn’t stay with me, anyways.”

“Why?”

“You know why,” he snapped.

“Before… before all this, I was thinking of bringing her to Greendale with me,” Archie admitted. “She told me she’d consider it.”

“You’re _running away_ with your rebound? That’s a new extreme.”

“ _Jug_.”

“Okay, sorry, continue.”

“She’s been my friend since we were little kids and my dad worked as a blacksmith on the estate. She’s gorgeous and she’s way too good for me, and I really, really like her, but… She’s also got to get out of that house. I want us to make it, Jug, but I think even if we don’t, maybe Greendale would be good for her.”

That was… surprisingly thoughtful, Jughead concluded, especially for Archie. It wasn’t that the brawny redhead was a bad person. On the contrary, he had a big heart and he loved easily, sometimes far _too_ easily. However, Archie also had a very bad habit of acting without fully thinking through the consequences of his plan, and that tended to land both Archie and people he loved in _very_ hot water. This… Well, it didn’t seem like such a terrible idea, especially considering how Betty was trapped in that house.

“Are you… are you going to punch me?” Archie asked, gaze shifting between Jughead’s face and his hand.

“What? No, of course not. I’m not _that_ much of an ass.” His brow furrowed as he stared back at his friend.

Archie just gestured vaguely to Jughead’s hand, still looking a little pale. There was no logical reason why Archie should think that way, though. They’d been friends for years, and of course they’d shared a few fist fights between them, but nothing that they couldn’t resolve. However, when Jughead looked down, he noticed that he’d unconsciously balled both his hands into fists, and that there was a tiny, dark red trickle leaking from his left palm.

“What the hell is that?” he asked, hissing as he opened his hand. He turned it from side to side like it was a foreign object, wiggling his fingers to test if they were still under his control. The blood, it seemed, came from a small spot where the nail on his middle finger had _just_ broken skin. It wasn’t a full half-moon, just a hint of a cut, but it was enough to scare him. He hadn’t even noticed clenching his fists.

“Is that normal?” Archie asked, blinking.

“No…” Jughead said slowly, flexing the fingers on both his hands this time.

“So you’re really okay with Betty and I… together?” He raised an eyebrow, looking unconvinced. Jughead couldn’t blame him. Any normal person would obviously be dealing with a waterfall of conflicted emotions about their recently declared soul mate being in a relationship with their long-time friend.

Fortunately, Jughead had never considered himself to be normal even once, and there was a large catalogue of extenuating circumstances surrounding him that prevented him from thinking too deeply about the whole situation. For now, at least. He would hold tight to those as long as possible.

“Archie, I… I have to ask: Do you really think you and Betty are going to make it?” Jughead pursed his lips together in a tight line, trying to think through his next words. “You know every single reason why I don’t want a soul mate in my life, but you _also_ know that I’m not heartless enough not to want her to be happy, and—” He cut off, biting his lip.

“And _what_?”

“And I know how you are with women!” he finally spat out. “You have a record that doesn’t speak in your favor, and just— just consider giving _me_ some peace of mind while I figure out what to do about this whole situation. I feel strong emotions from her right now, and she _loves_ you. Really, _really_ loves you in a way I’m not sure you understand. Are you ready to take that on?”

He didn’t quite understand why he was so frustrated. Betty was his soul mate, it was true, but he’d never been one to get involved in Archie’s love affairs. Maybe it was the understanding of exactly how much she loved him, of exactly how much he hated that his heart sank at the image of Archie _kissing_ her, at the realization of how much she enjoyed it. Was this what soul mate bonds were like? Sharing thoughts and feelings and emotions until one of the partners broke into a thousand pieces from the strain?

He shouldn’t feel this protective of anyone he barely knew, but she… She’d patched him up in the woods. She didn’t rat him out when she could have screamed while they were hiding. She was smart and funny, and if he didn’t know better, some part of him would be fucking relieved to have a woman like that as his soul mate.

Now, though, Jughead knew that the best he could really do was to make sure she was well taken care of by someone else. He couldn’t do much, but he could at least make certain that her heart wouldn’t be broken by Archie Andrews.

Archie stared back, mouth open and flapping like a codfish. He dropped his eyes and stepped away, rubbing his hands over his face.

“Why do you have to tell me this stuff, Jug?”

“Because, unfortunately, you’re my best friend, and I don’t want you to fuck this up and hurt someone you care about just because you’re rebounding and she’s a safe choice,” Jughead said. There was no point in sugar-coating it now. He knew Archie’s last breakup was bad. Valerie had utterly _crushed_ him when she left, and though a little time had passed between then and now, he wasn’t happy to see that Archie’s first choice was the good girl who appeared to love him wholeheartedly and unconditionally. That was just taking advantage.

If Jughead was going to leave her (and he was, as painlessly as possible), he owed Betty this inquiry.

“Are you really ready for something like that?”

“I… no,” Archie finally said. “No, if I’m honest, okay? I don’t think it’s going to last. She was just… there, and _perfect_ , and _gorgeous_ , and she’s always been there for me.”

Jughead purposefully clenched his fists this time.

“Don’t break her heart,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’ve only known her a day. Soul mate or not, I’m okay with you together, but only if you’re in it for the long haul. You hurt her, and we’ll have problems.”

“Why are you so possessive when you keep saying you don’t want a soul mate?”

Maybe it was something about feeling what Betty felt, even a snatch of it.

“Because she’s a _good person_ , Arch. She deserves to have someone who can love her without hurting her, and that may not be me, but it’s definitely not _you_ , either.” Jughead forced himself to uncurl his fists and brushed his hands off on his dark pants. “I’m going home, and _you_ should think about that. I’ll let you know when I’m coming back this way.”

He’d have to come back soon. There was a promise on the line, and Jughead Jones always kept his promises. Maybe by that time, Archie would have his head on straight.


	3. In Which Jughead Drinks Tea

It took another day for Jughead to meet up with Fangs and for the two of them to make their way back to Serpent territory. Thankfully, Fangs had horses, which increased their travel speed exponentially. One more day that he felt Betty’s throbbing ankle at random times, one more day that he felt her thinking about Archie at random times. That was, arguably, the strangest part.

However, as he traveled farther and farther from her, the signals grew weaker. They weren’t gone by any means, but the flashes of vivid memory he’d seen before had become no more than impulses and names and short bursts of emotions. With every step, he somehow felt like he was headed in the inherently wrong direction, as if something was pulling him back… and he knew exactly who it was.

There wasn’t time to waste on chasing a soul bond right now, though. There were other things to take care of— first and foremost, the assassin after his head. He specifically hadn’t told Archie about that, mostly because Jughead didn’t want his friend to take any rash actions not cleared by the Serpents. Archie was loyal, and that had never been a question. However, he wouldn’t consider Archie to be the sharpest crayon in the box. He thought with his fists first and his brain second, and that wasn’t something Jughead or any of the Serpents could risk right now.

The Serpent castle, as opposed to the Blossom residence, actually functioned as a _castle_. It wasn’t pretty. There were no elegant bridges or previous stones on display, no stained glass windows decorating the front of the building or open air staircases leading up to tall towers. There was a three-story main building with a basement below, one archaic stone watchtower standing at each of the four corners. The stone was crumbling at some places and repairs were always happening somewhere at some part of the year, but it was what it was: a stronghold. Strongholds took constant repair and constant fortification, otherwise they wouldn’t serve their intended purpose in the event of an attack, and the Serpents always had to be on guard for an attack.

He should have gone straight to the basement, down to the castle infirmary to get a clean bandage. It would have been wise to let a healer check his wounds or to report to his father, but that wasn’t Jughead’s primary concern. Instead, he was more concerned about the emotional flares he _kept_ feeling from Betty, even though the Duke’s estate was at the northern extreme of Riverdale and he was well over the southern border.

One particularly troubling flare was a flash to a moment in the woods, her fingers in his hair and his arm holding her close. He hadn’t realized, in that moment, just how badly she’d wanted that kiss, too…

The blush on his cheeks when he snapped himself out of his daze was decidedly _not_ coming from Betty.

Instead of going to the basement, Jughead climbed the stairs to the third floor of the castle, making his way through the twists and turns of the corridors directly to the one person who he thought might be able to help him. Though Jughead was well versed in magical theory, he didn’t practice very actively outside of his natural shifter abilities. There was someone in Serpent territory who did practice, though, and she was as good as anyone he’d ever known.

“I’m in trouble, Ronnie,” Jughead said, shaking his head as he threw open the door. “I need help.”

A woman with dark hair spun around the room, picking books off the shelves as her long, purple robes flared out behind her. Though the castle rooms were generally furnished in a simple style, the occupant of this room had somehow managed to make it a luxurious place. A hodgepodge of carpets covered the floor, overlapping in a rainbow of colors. Bookshelves lined the walls, stocked with not only books, but potions, ingredients, and magical instruments.

“Do you ever knock?” She raised an eyebrow, obviously perturbed.

Jughead sighed, shrugging helplessly.

“Lucky for you that you’re in my good books. What do you need?” Veronica asked, a smile crossing her painted lips.

Veronica Lodge was a top-tier sorceress who lived in Serpent territory despite not being a Serpent, either by blood, adoption, or marriage. On the contrary, she came to the serpents for sanctuary, running from the Lodges, a family of Riverdale nobles only second to the Blossoms themselves. Veronica had taken up sorcery as a pastime when she was a child and continued practicing for no other reason than to annoy her father, but even without a tutor, she was very adept at magic and had proven herself to be both strong-willed and loyal to people she loved.

She didn’t talk about her past in Riverdale much, and no one was sure if that was because she was ashamed of it or if she was just a private person, but she insisted that her time with the Serpents was a fresh start. She’d kept her word, too. Ever since her arrival six years ago, she’d been an incredible asset to the Serpents, and Jughead trusted her as a friend.

“Is there a way to magic yourself out of a soul mate bond?” he asked quickly.

Veronica blinked.

“I have to admit, out of all the things I imagined, that was not one of them.”

“Can you do it, though?” he insisted.

“Oh. No,” Veronica deadpanned. “Hell no, no way, absolutely not. I know I’m a self-taught sorceress, but I am a _very_ thorough reader. People have tried to sever soul bonds since soul bonds started forming, and it’s never been totally successful. Not even once. Basically, to sever a soul bond, you have to sever one of the souls. That’s the only way out.”

“Death? Seriously?!” That was exactly the thing he was trying very hard to _avoid_. Unable to stop himself, he started pacing around the room, desperate for anything that might help him think a little more clearly.

“Unless you’d like a partial success that might wind up killing one or both partners in the process or doing something equally horrific in a different manner, then yes. Death,” she said with a tiny, helpless shrug.

He felt like screaming. This was the entire reason he’d been avoiding his soul mate. Without finding her, things remained relatively simple. After finding her, things became complicated very quickly. There were only a few possible routes to take from here, and none of them were pleasant. There was no way for him to wind up with a happy ending in all this. The least he could do was be gentle on Betty. It wasn’t her fault that the universe decided she’d get stuck with him.

“Maybe I should ask Sabrina,” he mumbled, which was the wrong thing to say. Veronica groaned in the way she always did when someone questioned knowledge she was absolutely sure of.

“Look, I love Sabrina, I do, but she’s going to tell you the exact same thing. Right now, I need you to calm down, _sit_ down, I’ll make you some tea, and we’ll talk,” she said slowly, resting her hand on Jughead’s shoulder briefly. “Is this for…?” she trailed off, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s for me,” he said, understanding the unasked question. “I found her on my scouting mission.”

“I’m sorry— why didn’t this lady come back with you on horseback or something else equally romantic? You _know_ I need another woman around here that’s under the age of thirty. Besides Toni, that is.” Veronica sighed deeply as she placed an iron kettle on a hook in the fireplace, lighting the flames with a snap of her fingers.

“I’m more concerned about how to get rid of the bond than whisking someone away on a romantic honeymoon,” he said, rolling his eyes, turning yet another circle around the room.

“Stop pacing around like a wild animal. I said to _sit_ ,” Veronica insisted, gesturing to a plush chair by the fireplace.

Jughead groaned. He knew she meant well, but Ronnie was undeniably particular about the way she liked things. Pacing made him feel better. The tea brewing would probably also help him feel a little calmer, but that wasn’t ready yet. However, it was unlikely that he’d get any more answers out of her until he obliged, so Jughead flopped down in one of the chairs and crossed his arms, tapping his heel impatiently. Veronica didn’t seem to take offense at that, and as soon as he seemed settled, she sat delicately in the opposite chair and continued talking.

“I might have something that can still help you out, but… I really can’t say that I recommend it. It’s more of a last-ditch option,” she said gently, giving him a smile that was a little more of a grimace. “Soul bonds have a— a settling period, for lack of a better term. It’s going to be unstable for weeks, or maybe _months,_ before it settles into whatever pattern it’ll be in forever. It’s not a good idea to mess with that kind of volatile magic.”

Volatile magic. That was exactly what Betty called it. Their bond was both strong and unstable, but he couldn’t risk waiting any longer to do something about it. How did people _live_ like this?

Well, that was a ridiculous question. They went on extended honeymoons and fucked like rabbits till the bond settled, probably. Did they know each other any better after all that? Probably not. In fact, Jughead thought that one of the main factors in soul mate relationships that fell apart was the fact that many soul mate relationships were based on sex. People thought that a soul mate bond was an instant, easy connection.

He knew better than most that it wasn’t, and he wished more than anything that he hadn’t been blessed with an intelligent, gorgeous woman as his soul mate. However, Jughead had to work with what he was given, and right now that meant getting rid of this bond.

While Jughead stewed, Veronica took the teapot off the fire and dropped a clump of herbs into the pot. Jughead didn’t know what was in the tea, and he was fairly certain he didn’t want to know. The brews she made could be disgusting, but they worked, and he’d long ago learned to stop questioning it when she made him drink something.

“No, you don’t understand, Ronnie. I have to do something about this _now_ , before—” he cut off, squeezing his eyes shut. In that moment, he almost understood why Betty might have developed a habit of clenching her fists.

“Before what? Why aren’t you _excited_ about this?”

“Before I get attached. Before something happens to her. Before we do something stupid and I can’t let her go.” He took a deep breath and glanced up at Veronica, who was peacefully fiddling with the teapot, apparently waiting for him to go on. Ah, well. If she was going to help, she might as well know. “My family is cursed. They’ve _been_ cursed forever, way back since the beginning of the Serpents.”

Veronica put down the pot and placed her hands on her hips, looking skeptical. “Explain, Jones.”

The Serpent clan had been cursed back before anyone could remember. It was so long ago that not one single member of the clan, born into it or adopted, knew anything more about the actual event than the story passed down from generation to generation. It was a fairy tale, almost, a tale of their very own, but every word rang true based on historical record, and that was the most terrifying part of all.

“Every time one of my family members has found their soul mate, something terrible happens to them. They’ve all died.”

“Everyone dies eventually, Jughead,” she said gently. It was almost like she willingly misunderstood him. She began to pour the tea into delicate cups as Jughead struggled to explain. It wasn’t an easy subject for him to speak about, although he’d been aware of the rumored curse since he was ten years old.

“No, I mean they’ve all died young, suddenly, and _painfully_ , and most of them… Most of my family members who found their soul mates have been responsible for their deaths.” He couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes as he spoke, his gaze on the teacups.

“You’re telling me that you’re afraid you’re going to _kill_ your soul mate?” The tea splashed a little as she jerked in the middle of pouring, sitting bolt upright.

“Basically, yes.” That was why he had to keep Betty as far away from him as possible. It didn’t matter how much he wanted to be near her, how much the soul bond pulled them together, or how much he thought that maybe, just maybe, they could be a good match if he took the time to get to know her. None of that mattered at all if the same magic that brought them together had somehow been twisted into causing her doom.

“Based on… what? Are you sure it’s real?” Veronica’s suspicion was understandable, but Jughead was very sure.

“The story says that the first Serpent King left his wife because he found his soul mate. In true fairy tale fashion, she was a witch and decided to curse the family to get revenge. I wouldn’t believe it based on a legend alone, but historical record does corroborate it.” He carefully reached for a teacup, sniffing the brew cautiously before he sipped. Not too bad this time.

“How so?” She looked unconvinced, crossing her legs as she sipped her tea. “You said your parents were soul mates.”

“They were, and now we have no idea where my mom is, so that worked out _very_ well. Extraordinarily so,” Jughead said, rolling his eyes. However, he sobered quickly. “She hasn’t been back here in fourteen years, so we’ve all assumed the worse, if I’m honest.”

His parents may have been soul mates, but Jughead’s mother left when he was ten and his little sister was two. The relationship between Gladys and FP had always been tumultuous at best and toxic at worst, and many times he’d wondered if they were really soul mates at all. Then again, both of his parents had individual problems that they needed to handle before working out the problems between them, and neither one had wanted to untangle those issues. So, Gladys ran, leaving FP with two children and an alcohol addiction he couldn’t shake. As a result, Jellybean and Jugheads were children of the Serpents as a whole almost as much as FP. The whole clan took care of them, and while FP was too lost in drink to handle leading the clan, Jughead’s grandfather covered for him, claiming that FP was extremely bereaved and needed time to recover.

He did recover, eventually. FP was three years sober now, but none of their family members would ever forget that time.

“What about your grandma?” Veronica continued sipping on her tea delicately. Whatever was in the brew must have been working, because Jughead could feel his muscles slowly relaxing.

“Grandpa never found his soul mate. My dad won’t really talk about my great grandma, though. Apparently, her death was really hard on him.” He paused, gently putting down his half empty teacup. “The point is that I’m not taking any chances. She’s already doomed to get her heart broken by Archie, of all people. I’m not going to put her in more danger by keeping her with me.”

“Have you asked her about how she feels about all this?” Veronica asked curiously. “You both have to consent to the spell for it to work.”

“I’ll convince her. Somehow,” he muttered.

“Okay. Fine,” Veronica threw her hands in the air as if in surrender. “Clearly, I’m not going to convince you, so I’ll start working on the brew on the condition that you promise you won’t try to slip it in her drink unknowingly or something.”

“I promise.” That would be silly, anyhow. Jughead wasn’t in the market for underhanded tricks, even if he felt like his intentions were good. He knew that if the situation were reversed, he would at least like to know some of the truth. _Enough_ of the truth.

“Good, because side effects of that could be seriously disastrous,” Veronica grumbled, standing from her chair. She brushed nonexistent dust off her shoulders and smoothed her robes as she looked around the room, eyes flitting from bottle to bottle and book to book. “I should have everything I need here.”

“Great. Let me know how it goes. I need to go pack, but I’ll be back in a few days,” he said, standing.

“You _just_ got back.”

“Yeah, but I need to go back and talk to my soul mate about getting rid of the bond _and_ talk to my oldest friend about his terrible track record with women.” With luck, he might even be able to get out of talking to his dad or his grandfather before he left. One night in the Serpent castle and he’d be off again, restocked and headed down the forest trails that led to Riverdale. If he stuck to the trails and traveled at night, it wouldn’t take long to make his way back to the Duke’s estate. From there… Well, he made mistakes last time. This time, he wouldn’t be caught so easily.

“How have I not met the famous Archie, by the way?” Veronica batted her eyelashes and Jughead bit back a scoff.

“Through a very carefully orchestrated string of circumstances designed specifically so you two will _never_ make contact,” he deadpanned.

“You let me meet Sabrina!” she whined.

“Yes, and that was an _excellent_ decision. This would be the equivalent of letting fire and gasoline get together for a party, so until I’m convinced even one of you can control your libido, no. You’re not meeting.” Jughead smiled despite himself and opened the door. Eventually, he thought Archie and Veronica would get along well… as soon as he was certain it wouldn’t end in a violent explosion.

“Ugh, fine. I’ll get to work on the brew. You _better_ let me meet him one day.” She was already pulling bottles from the shelves, gathering strange looking jars of herbs and corked beakers of liquid in her arms. Veronica was always at her best when she had a project, and it wasn’t surprising that she was ready to get to work immediately.

“Maybe,” Jughead said vaguely, quietly closing the door behind him as he left the room.

* * *

Forty-eight hours after Jughead dragged her behind the bushes, Betty still felt nauseous and shaky. She wasn’t sure what to do, how to act, or how to handle these strange impulses she occasionally felt coming from somewhere _else_. Sometimes it was a brief flash of laughter, sometimes a vague memory, and a persistent bout of insomnia overhung all of it. She’d barely slept six hours since their meeting, and by the time she pulled on her cloak for another journey outside, dark circles had appeared under Betty’s bloodshot eyes.

Without question, she knew Jughead was safe. She assumed he was home. She also knew he couldn’t sleep, that the ache from the wound she’d dressed was mostly gone, and that his shoulder was bothering him more now than before. It was almost scary how much she was sure of when it came to him.

She needed to talk to someone about this, someone she could trust. Unfortunately, the people that Betty could trust were few and far between. For most of her life, that person was Polly. Now that Polly was at the Blossom palace, it wasn’t so simple as walking into another room for a sisterly chat, so Betty needed to explore other options.

Well…

 _One_ other option.

Instead of walking to another room, she found herself once again walking out to the forest. There was only one person left that she could talk to, and with luck he might be out there tonight. Would it be worse to tell Archie she’d found her soul mate or not to mention it at all? Betty wasn’t certain. If she were in his place, she’d want to know, but that opened up a never-ending string of anxiety about the relationship. If it wasn’t meant to be, then what was the point?

No, she couldn’t think like that. Magic couldn’t dictate who she loved or why she loved them. A mark was just a mark. Archie was special to her. He’d always been special. She couldn’t just let that die out because suddenly magic decreed that the person she was supposed to be with was some— some tall… intelligent… handsome…

_Snap out of it, Betty._

When Archie appeared out of the darkness of the forest, she smiled and waved, but something felt off. Something in his posture seemed stiff, and something about his smile seemed forced. Betty assumed it was just a side effect of her own emotions, though. She felt tense and awkward, terrified to tell him but too guilty not to say a word. He still hugged her in greeting, but he seemed gentler this time, like he thought she might break if he held her the wrong way.

That wasn’t _right_. Archie had always been the only person who didn’t treat her like glass. Something was wrong. Something had changed. However, as Betty pulled away from him, Archie beat her to them punch.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “You… you look like you’re about to cry?

Did she? Betty hadn’t noticed the sting at the corners of her eyes before. She was typically in control of her emotions, keeping them carefully covered and only revealing them to people she trusted. This situation had quickly spiraled far beyond her control, though, and Betty almost didn’t care if everything she felt showed on her face.

“I found my soul mate,” she whispered, dropping her gaze as she awkwardly wrapped her arms around herself.

Archie didn’t speak for a long moment. The silence was deafening, the only sound the pounding of her own heartbeat in her ears. Betty almost wished he would have flown into a range and spared her this anxiety, her eyes locked on the ground as she waited… but he never spoke.

When she looked up, she found him looking away from her, hands nervously fiddling with the bottom of his doublet. He looked… guilty? Uncomfortable? Sad? Confused? However, the one emotion Betty most assuredly expected was the one that she couldn’t find.

“Why don’t you look surprised?” She instinctively took a half step away from him, trying and failing to discern what exactly he was thinking. Archie just adjusted the clasp of his cloak, avoiding her eyes as he spoke.

“Betty… How do you feel about me?” he asked carefully. Panic rose in her chest, sharp and cold.

“That’s not answering the question.”

“Humor me. Please,” he begged. And, only because it was Archie— the boy she’d always loved, who had supported her as a friend even when he’d been too blind to see how she felt— she did.

“I…” she paused, swallowing hard as she pulled her cloak a little tighter around her shoulders. “I love you.”

But the words felt distant.

She’d imagined telling Archie that a hundred times, a _thousand_ times. She’d _already_ told him that a hundred times, albeit platonically. Something about it felt wrong this time, though. The kisses and the touches weren’t as vibrant in her memory as she thought they should be. She didn’t feel the same kind of sparks when he looked in her eyes.

“That’s why we can’t keep doing this, Betty. I’m sorry.”

He spoke quietly, but it felt more like a thunderclap.

“The Greendale offer is still open, though, and I still think you need to leave. To get out. I can help you— I _will_ help you,” he said firmly, continuing as though he hadn’t said something akin to a bomb dropping on Betty’s world. “And I know Jughead will too.”

Betty took another step back. He might as well have been speaking underwater. The entire world felt slow and surreal, like she processed the situation too quickly and too slowly all at once. She’d told him that she found her soul mate, but she hadn’t said his name. Archie didn’t look surprised when she told him, either, which presented only one logical explanation: he already knew.

“How do you know about that?”

“I’ve known him for years. Our dads were old friends, and we used to spend summers and holidays together. Jug even stayed with us for weeks at a time if it looked like there was trouble in Serpent territory, just to keep him safe. He’s a really good guy,” he said slowly, looking nervous. “After my dad died, the blacksmith shop wasn’t the only thing I took over. I’m also a Riverdale contact point for the Serpents.”

Betty didn’t respond, staring blankly at Archie through the dark of the forest. It felt like she didn’t have any emotional room left to be surprised.

“It’s just in case of emergency!” he said quickly. “I don’t do anything illegal, I just deliver messages and drop off supplies sometimes.”

“You know Jughead,” she said slowly. “You know the _Serpents_?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” He sounded ashamed, but Betty couldn’t tell if it was shame from his association with the Serpents or the fact that he wasn't honest about it.

“Did he…?” Her hand went to her right forearm, covering the spot where her soul mark was, concealed beneath her clothing. Archie wouldn’t meet her eyes as he nodded, and it made Betty’s blood boil. Jughead let the secret slip before she even had a chance to talk with him.

“Did he _tell you_ to end things with me?” Betty felt the corners of her eyes sting as she spoke, and she blinked to hold back the tears.

“No, Betty, _no_! He just— he brought up some good points.” Archie stammered, holding up his hands in surrender.

“Like _what_?” She struggled to keep her voice down, barely managing to keep to a normal speaking volume.

What could he have said? What could he have possibly brought up that would separate her from the friend that she’d known her whole life, from the boy she’d fallen in love with and never managed to shake? They had made it through thick and thin together. There were very few things that could ever break them apart.

“Like the fact that I don’t love you.”

Archie spoke quickly, the words falling out all in a rush. He paused, biting his lip for a moment, like he was struggling for words. “Not _really_ , that is. Not like I want to or like I should.”

Betty’s jaw dropped. If she thought it stung when Jughead said he wasn’t “in the market for a soul mate,” it was nothing compared to this. It felt like her chest had cracked open and everything was pouring out from the inside, like she couldn’t stop the tears welling up in her eyes no matter what she did. She thought things had progressed a little quickly after Valerie. There was a niggling feeling in her gut telling her that Archie got over this girl very quickly, and that she needed to be careful, but Betty had ignored it in favor of the thing she’d always wanted: Archie’s love.

In her mind, she knew that this was what needed to happen. If he didn’t really love her, then he would just break her heart in the end. There was no way to force someone to feel real love. In her _heart_? All she wanted was Archie, and the fact that no matter what she did, she couldn’t _make_ him love her… It tore her open from middle.

She felt trapped.

“I promise, I’ll still get you out of here. I still love you as my friend, just like I always have.”

That was when she realized something very important about her relationship with Archie Andrews.

“No.”

Betty spoke so quietly that she almost didn’t hear her own words. “No, you _obviously_ don’t,” she continued, stepping away from him, a mirthless laugh escaping her lips.

“Betty, please—"

“This isn’t how you treat someone you _love_ , Archie!” she cried, not caring how loud her voice echoed in the quiet woods. “You’re involved with the Serpents and you didn’t trust me enough to tell me. You _used me_ to make things hurt less after Valerie left you.”

“I never meant to use you!” he insisted, but Betty wasn’t ready to hear excuses.

“Well, you didn’t have the good grace to tell me you didn’t love me, so what _did_ you mean to do?” she snapped. He’d loved her once; she believed that, but somewhere along the way, that love became twisted into something that was less helpful, less pure-hearted. It was selfish and cruel, not because he meant to be cruel, but because Archie was too focused on his own fear of being hurt to see how much he was hurting _her_.

“I didn’t want to hurt you.” There was true remorse in his voice, but it was too late for that.

“That’s the point, isn’t it?” Betty scoffed, hands on her hips. She blinked and tears rolled down her cheeks, but she didn’t care if he saw. “You never _mean_ to do anything. You don’t mean to hurt people, you don’t mean for things to turn out badly, but they do because you don’t think things through. You didn’t think about _me_ at all!”

She almost wanted him to argue. More than anything, she wanted Archie to do what he always did: to explain the good intentions that led to bad circumstances, to brush off his lack of thinking as passion in the heat of the moment. She wanted him to say that there were feelings buried somewhere in there, that this was all a mistake, that they could _fix_ this.

But he was silent, and this string of grave mistakes could not be mended so easily.

Betty felt the sting in her palms and flinched, forcing her fingers to uncurl. It was too late, though. Glancing down at her right palm, she saw that the wounds from only days ago had reopened, weeping dark red trails down her skin. She took a deep breath, eyes flicking back and forth between Archie and her hand, and when she finally let her arm rest by her side again, there was only one thing she could think of left to say.

“I have to go.”

No sooner than the words were out of her mouth, she took off. Though Betty heard Archie calling out after her, she kept running, feet pounding against the soft earth and cloak flying out behind her as she sprinted back towards the manor. She scrubbed hot tears from her eyes as she ran, half blinded from crying, but her body knew the way by now. It was less a matter of thinking and more a matter of moving, heading back to somewhere she felt safe, _anywhere_ she felt safe. Right now, much to her chagrin, the only place she wanted to be was in her bedroom.

This wasn’t her normal return time, though. On any other night, she would have been out much longer, have calculated exactly where all the members of the night watch would be. She would have been able to sneak back in and climb back up the tower with relative ease, no one at the Cooper estate the wiser when morning came.

Tonight, that was not the case.

“Lady Elizabeth?”

She whirled around, eyes wide. Staring back at her from the far edge of the path stood Reggie, looking just as confused as she might have been in his place. Betty had always strived to be careful, to leave no trace, to make no sound, but now… Now there were tears running down her cheeks, and she was standing in the dark with a cloak over her shoulders, very clearly caught red-handed sneaking out of the house.

Every bone in her body screamed at her to run, and for once, Betty listened to her primal physical instincts instead of her rational thought process. However, Reggie was taller and faster than she was even on a good day. Even with her quick instincts, he was on top of her before she even left the gardens.

Betty cried out as he tackled her to the ground, skirts tangling around her legs and knees scraping the gravel. She would be scratched and bruised in the morning. No matter how she kicked and struggled, it didn’t deter Reggie. He easily restrained her, throwing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes with one arm securely around her thighs. Kicking and beating at him did nothing, and soon her parents would at least suspect that she’d been sneaking away regularly. All of her freedom was gone, though she supposed that didn’t matter so much when the person she’d wanted to see no longer wanted her.

She should have left the forest and gone somewhere else. Greendale, maybe. South, to Serpent territory. Somewhere far beyond Riverdale that no one knew.

Anywhere but here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was definitely more of a chapter where we get things done that have to be done and explain things that have to be explained in order to move the plot forward. These scenes lay quite a bit of groundwork for juicy content in the next two chapters. I was going to add an extra scene at the end to get in some more Betty/Jughead interaction, but that would have made this chapter about 50% longer, so I opted for taking my time with that scene for next time.
> 
> Thanks so much for your kind comments on previous chapters, and thanks for reading!


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